A horror film once cost me a girlfriend. She was well aware I was a fan of the genre, but part way through ‘Hellraiser’, she erupted. If this was the sort of movie I enjoyed, she bellowed, then there must be something wrong with me, I was sick and she wanted nothing more to do with me.
In less dramatic ways, this has been put to me several times since. Why would a rational, balanced person wish to be exposed to nasty creatures, blood and menace? Surely that cannot be a healthy activity? I understand this concern, but my accusers are wrong and completely misunderstand horror’s place in cinema and popular culture.
In less dramatic ways, this has been put to me several times since. Why would a rational, balanced person wish to be exposed to nasty creatures, blood and menace? Surely that cannot be a healthy activity? I understand this concern, but my accusers are wrong and completely misunderstand horror’s place in cinema and popular culture.
Those who condemn the unsavoury nature of horror movies rarely make the same criticism of Shakespeare, The Brothers Grimm or Homer. And yet ‘Macbeth’ is a tale of revenge, bloody murder and the supernatural; ‘Snow White’ features poisoning, torture and death, and Greek mythology is riddled with snake-haired women, one-eyed giants, mutant beasts and incest.
Horror cinema is actually an incarnation of an artistic tradition as old as mankind – the urge to explore our deepest doubts and festering fears through the telling of stories. Almost every human culture and civilization has pursued this instinct, from the voodoo zombies of the Caribbean and banshee spirits of Ireland, to the demons of Hinduism and usurping gods of Samaria. Some may find it hard to believe, but there is a firm and rigid line from these esoteric myths to ‘The Exorcist’ and the ‘Evil Dead’.
Look closely and you’ll see most horror movies are actually deeply symbolic. The aforementioned ‘Hellraiser’ certainly tells the tale of a man who unleashes sadistic entities, ready and willing to subject him to unspeakable harm. But the film is also a fantastically visceral study of temptation, misplaced loyalty and the perils of extreme desire. Not only is it a layered and textural piece, it is also a morality tale. There is nothing in ‘Hellraiser’ to persuade the viewer there is anything to be gained from selfishness, violence, indulgence or torture. Although it depicts all four, it clearly demonstrates their perilous consequences – unlike say, the designer violence of a police buddy movie like ‘Bad Boys’, which treats guns, fist fights, injury and death as nothing more than cosmetic cheap thrills.
Indeed, until the early 1980s, horror films were compelled by the censors to show the destruction of evil in the their final reel, if they were to gain a certificate and distribution. Besides, beyond bureaucracy, the downfall of threat is very much a part of horror’s traditional narrative arc – Dracula receives a sharpened stake, The Wolf Man a silver bullet, The Mummy crumbles as the animating spell is reversed. Such finales are expected by the horror aficionado – because they are the catharses which give the stories purpose. (One might argue that the outstanding ‘Blair Witch Project’ is the exception that proves the rule.)
There’s an abiding impression that horror has become more frightening, more intense and more graphic as cinema has progressed. And there’s some truth in this. In the time of Hammer, the UK’s predominant producer of horror movies throughout the 60s and 70s, a substance called Kensington Gore was employed when blood was required. A mixture of corn syrup and dye, it was intentionally made several shades too red, a subtle reminder to the audience that all was fantasy. Nevertheless, those pictures were still nerve-shredding experiences in their day and all received ‘X’ (18) certificates. Naturally, as cinema-goers (and home video consumers) grew more sophisticated, so the films became more complex and impactful. This was as much true for comedies, gangster flicks, disaster movies and thrillers. The idea that horror films alone sought to be increasingly terrifying, simply to inflict increased damage on society is a nonsense.
You may recall a tremendous fuss in the 1980s over something called ‘video nasties’. The Conservative government decided the proliferation of VCRs in homes was allowing households to access horror material which was corrupting. ‘Driller Killer’, ‘I Spit On Your Grave’ and ‘Evil Dead’ (which had already been shown in theatres) appeared on a list of prohibited films – a list compiled by politicians, many of whom hadn’t seen the pictures in question. Most of these movies have now been screened on network television. They haven’t changed, but society’s attitude to them has. We’ve matured, and rather than become immune to the content of these films, have evolved an understanding of their intention. What’s more, there are no recorded instances of any of these titles producing unacceptable or criminal behaviour in viewers.
I would, however, draw a distinction between the genuine horror movie and the rash of worthless films which have recently built a modern niche often termed ‘torture porn’. ‘Captivity’, ‘Hostel’ ‘Human Centipede’ and several others are depressing extensions of the ‘stalk and slash’ category, launched by the excellent ‘Halloween’ in 1978. Eschewing the supernatural in favour of dumb psychopaths, they tend to depict pretty young women being violently abused in a series of increasingly bizarre contraptions, before they either die or escape.
These are not illegal, hideous snuff clips from the worst regions of the web, but full-on studio productions with theatrical releases. Personally I despise this garbage. Not because the films are too frightening or too graphic, but because they are so stupid; immorality tales for inadequate young men too immature to cope with their feelings about the opposite sex and too keen to assert their ‘masculinity’ in the worst ways possible. It’s all so base, so pathetic, it’s actually quite boring. Although the quite inventive ‘Saw’ and heart-stopping ‘Wolf Creek’ come very close to falling into this subset, one should never mistake ‘torture porn’ for horror.
But, if two genres are so closely aligned in the minds of so many, how can there be a substantial difference? Wouldn’t some folk, such my ex-girlfriend, say it’s all part of the same sick, disgusting and repugnant oeuvre? They would, but again they’d be mistaken.
A great horror movie takes us on a journey into our personal and collective psyche – allowing us to contemplate our anxieties, our dreads and our relationship with things we struggle to understand. But, in this experience, it enables us to rationalise fear, to expunge apprehension and face down our nightmares. Along the way it will undoubtedly shine a torch in some uncomfortably dark corners, it will startle and alarm us; it may even inspire a flurry of jittery laughter. But a great horror movie is ultimately an uplifting experience, because it reminds us that evil is a human construct and can therefore, be vanquished.
As FD Roosevelt said, and every horror movie fan knows, there is nothing to fear but fear itself.
Horror cinema is actually an incarnation of an artistic tradition as old as mankind – the urge to explore our deepest doubts and festering fears through the telling of stories. Almost every human culture and civilization has pursued this instinct, from the voodoo zombies of the Caribbean and banshee spirits of Ireland, to the demons of Hinduism and usurping gods of Samaria. Some may find it hard to believe, but there is a firm and rigid line from these esoteric myths to ‘The Exorcist’ and the ‘Evil Dead’.
Look closely and you’ll see most horror movies are actually deeply symbolic. The aforementioned ‘Hellraiser’ certainly tells the tale of a man who unleashes sadistic entities, ready and willing to subject him to unspeakable harm. But the film is also a fantastically visceral study of temptation, misplaced loyalty and the perils of extreme desire. Not only is it a layered and textural piece, it is also a morality tale. There is nothing in ‘Hellraiser’ to persuade the viewer there is anything to be gained from selfishness, violence, indulgence or torture. Although it depicts all four, it clearly demonstrates their perilous consequences – unlike say, the designer violence of a police buddy movie like ‘Bad Boys’, which treats guns, fist fights, injury and death as nothing more than cosmetic cheap thrills.
Indeed, until the early 1980s, horror films were compelled by the censors to show the destruction of evil in the their final reel, if they were to gain a certificate and distribution. Besides, beyond bureaucracy, the downfall of threat is very much a part of horror’s traditional narrative arc – Dracula receives a sharpened stake, The Wolf Man a silver bullet, The Mummy crumbles as the animating spell is reversed. Such finales are expected by the horror aficionado – because they are the catharses which give the stories purpose. (One might argue that the outstanding ‘Blair Witch Project’ is the exception that proves the rule.)
There’s an abiding impression that horror has become more frightening, more intense and more graphic as cinema has progressed. And there’s some truth in this. In the time of Hammer, the UK’s predominant producer of horror movies throughout the 60s and 70s, a substance called Kensington Gore was employed when blood was required. A mixture of corn syrup and dye, it was intentionally made several shades too red, a subtle reminder to the audience that all was fantasy. Nevertheless, those pictures were still nerve-shredding experiences in their day and all received ‘X’ (18) certificates. Naturally, as cinema-goers (and home video consumers) grew more sophisticated, so the films became more complex and impactful. This was as much true for comedies, gangster flicks, disaster movies and thrillers. The idea that horror films alone sought to be increasingly terrifying, simply to inflict increased damage on society is a nonsense.
You may recall a tremendous fuss in the 1980s over something called ‘video nasties’. The Conservative government decided the proliferation of VCRs in homes was allowing households to access horror material which was corrupting. ‘Driller Killer’, ‘I Spit On Your Grave’ and ‘Evil Dead’ (which had already been shown in theatres) appeared on a list of prohibited films – a list compiled by politicians, many of whom hadn’t seen the pictures in question. Most of these movies have now been screened on network television. They haven’t changed, but society’s attitude to them has. We’ve matured, and rather than become immune to the content of these films, have evolved an understanding of their intention. What’s more, there are no recorded instances of any of these titles producing unacceptable or criminal behaviour in viewers.
I would, however, draw a distinction between the genuine horror movie and the rash of worthless films which have recently built a modern niche often termed ‘torture porn’. ‘Captivity’, ‘Hostel’ ‘Human Centipede’ and several others are depressing extensions of the ‘stalk and slash’ category, launched by the excellent ‘Halloween’ in 1978. Eschewing the supernatural in favour of dumb psychopaths, they tend to depict pretty young women being violently abused in a series of increasingly bizarre contraptions, before they either die or escape.
These are not illegal, hideous snuff clips from the worst regions of the web, but full-on studio productions with theatrical releases. Personally I despise this garbage. Not because the films are too frightening or too graphic, but because they are so stupid; immorality tales for inadequate young men too immature to cope with their feelings about the opposite sex and too keen to assert their ‘masculinity’ in the worst ways possible. It’s all so base, so pathetic, it’s actually quite boring. Although the quite inventive ‘Saw’ and heart-stopping ‘Wolf Creek’ come very close to falling into this subset, one should never mistake ‘torture porn’ for horror.
But, if two genres are so closely aligned in the minds of so many, how can there be a substantial difference? Wouldn’t some folk, such my ex-girlfriend, say it’s all part of the same sick, disgusting and repugnant oeuvre? They would, but again they’d be mistaken.
A great horror movie takes us on a journey into our personal and collective psyche – allowing us to contemplate our anxieties, our dreads and our relationship with things we struggle to understand. But, in this experience, it enables us to rationalise fear, to expunge apprehension and face down our nightmares. Along the way it will undoubtedly shine a torch in some uncomfortably dark corners, it will startle and alarm us; it may even inspire a flurry of jittery laughter. But a great horror movie is ultimately an uplifting experience, because it reminds us that evil is a human construct and can therefore, be vanquished.
As FD Roosevelt said, and every horror movie fan knows, there is nothing to fear but fear itself.
